


The Campaign Trial

by Evilida



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Drug Addiction, Elections, Gen, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilida/pseuds/Evilida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius is running for president.  He is secretly grieving after Hera's death, and has fallen in love with Gina, a Cylon infiltrator who looks exactly like Six. Too much stress and too many guilty secrets are taking their toll.  Gaius is having a nervous breakdown, but because of his high general level of eccentricity, nobody seems to notice.  Dr. Cottle's pills help - but maybe a little too much. </p><p>Written years ago.  My version of Gaius's past does not match up with what Battlestar Galactica eventually revealed.   I had fun making Aerelon the home of a rural serpent-handling cult, to make the contrast between his rustic past and sophisticated present more striking. </p><p>Comments always appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Campaign Trial

Gaius Baltar had spent, he thought, more than his fair share of time on civilian transports that made the rust-bucket Galactica look like Cloud 9, certainly a great deal more time than Laura Roslin ever had. She sent him on any number of p.r. junkets to raise the morale of the civilian fleet. Of course, Six - who didn't hesitate to say aloud the unpleasant truths that Baltar preferred not to acknowledge - never let him forget Roslin's real motivation: to keep him out of the way while she did the real work of government. Roslin met with the Quorum of Twelve and conferred with Commander Adama about important issues of state, while Baltar shared reconstituted protein meal and stale recycled air with exhausted factory workers and displaced businessmen. The civilians were people who had lost all sense of their purpose in life and all control of their future. They were hollow puppets, mere shadows of the people they had been before the disaster, and Baltar understood them, because he was one of them. He knew what they wanted. A natural showman, Baltar rose to the occasion. He put on the charm, flirting automatically with ashen, hollow-eyed women still in mourning for their families, friends and homes. He assured everyone time and time again that Roslin and Adama were true children of Athena, possessed of the wisdom and military acumen that would lead them to victory over the Cylons and a new home on Earth. He didn't believe a word of it but he knew how to deliver a message. After one of these trips, Baltar would be exhausted. He'd fall asleep on the trip back to Galactica, even though he hated and feared travelling in one of the little ship-to-ship vessels; he'd had an aversion to them ever since his raptor had been shot down over Kobol.

Since he'd announced his candidacy though, the number of trips Baltar took had actually decreased. Adama now said that tyllium supplies were finite and could not be wasted on campaign trips. Campaigning could be done by wireless. It was not a high priority. Baltar had to content himself, Adama ruled, with what he could accomplish from his headquarters on the Galactica. The Galactica was, unsurprisingly, a centre of Roslin support. The military knew of Roslin's close relationship with the Adama family, and were certain that under her presidency military needs would always come first. Most of Adama's trusted officers were Roslin supporters, and being known as a Baltar supporter might affect a crew member's assignments and prospects for promotion. In the circumstances, Lt. Gaeta's unwavering support was most appreciated and most gratifying. Baltar had promised himself that, in the unlikely event of a Baltar/Zarek victory, Gaeta would be rewarded with a plum position in his Cabinet.

Today, Zarek had organized a photo op. It was easy – something that Baltar could do in his sleep. Baltar and Zarek would visit the Galactica's hospital where Baltar would announce their new healthcare policy (written by Zarek, of course). Baltar was delivering the message with aplomb when he saw the baby across the room. Little Xeno Parker, three months old, was visiting Dr. Cottle for a check-up. Baltar faltered, and then Zarek watched as he seemed to sag. For a second, he saw an expression of absolute anguish on the scientist's face. Baltar tried to pull himself together, but Zarek could see that he was losing the battle. Baltar's eyes were rimmed in red and he sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. Zarek gestured to Gaeta, who rushed to Baltar's side, as Zarek smoothly took over. Gaeta hustled Baltar into one of Cottle's examination rooms.

After the photo op was over, Zarek went into the examination room. Cottle, smoking a cigarette, was standing on the far side of the room, keeping a watch on Baltar.

"I gave him a sedative." Cottle said.

Zarek knew that Cottle had no sympathy for "nervous cases" and preferred to "save his medicine for those who deserved it". Usually he recommended a slap across the face for people who indulged in hysteria. For him to have used some of his precious medicine meant that Baltar had been in a pretty sorry state. Zarek could believe this, because even after the sedative, Baltar looked awful. He was shaking and his eyes were squeezed shut. Silent tears poured down his cheeks, and he covered his hands over his ears, as if he were trying to block out screams that only he could hear. Gaeta hovered ineffectually, trying to help the man he idolized, but Baltar seemed to be unaware of his presence. Zarek had notice Baltar's detachment from his surroundings before. Sometimes, he would be talking to the man, explaining some important policy issue, and Baltar would be oblivious, staring at nothing. At such times, Zarek couldn't tell if Baltar was lost in his own thoughts or if he was simply blank, in some sort of empty fugue state. He had been unsure whether Baltar suffered from some sort of mental or emotional disorder, or whether the mind of a scientific genius simply worked differently from those of more mundane human beings. Now he knew.

"I'm going to schedule him an appointment for early next week. In the meantime, make sure he takes one of these at the same time every day. " Cottle handed him a bottle of pills. "If he starts talking about suicide or seems irrational, don't wait for the appointment. Bring him in right away."

Now, Baltar was beginning to recover. He put his arms down and opened his eyes, seeming a bit surprised to find himself in the exam room. His clothes were damp and wrinkled and he felt exhausted. He clutched the blanket Gaeta had draped over his shoulders and politely accepted the cigarette the lieutenant offered.

"Sorry, I was a bit overcome there," Baltar said. "Tears of joy, I suspect. All this death and destruction and then that little baby, so beautiful, so perfect... a symbol of new life, out of the ... ashes."

Zarek looked at him sceptically. The expression on Baltar's face had been unmistakeable. He had not been crying tears of joy.

Seeing that his explanation was not being accepted, Baltar tried again. "I lost a child of my own. She was a little younger than that one. She was my hope for the future, but she was killed. I wanted to save her, but I couldn't."

Zarek was surprised. Baltar's bio had said that he was single and childless. He was aware of Baltar's reputation as a womanizer, so it certainly wasn't out of the question for the scientist to have fathered half a dozen children out of wedlock. Still, if his daughter had been as dear to him as Baltar claimed, why had he never acknowledged her as his own? In some of the more conservative colonies, fathering a child out of wedlock might be a scandal, but Caprica was more sophisticated.

Zarek had to say this for his running mate; his powers of recovery were formidable. An hour later, Baltar was back shaking hands and flirting with the female voters at a luncheon reception. Only his red eyes and a barely perceptible tremor when he lifted a glass of wine to his lips betrayed his earlier breakdown. The reception was a success. Still, Baltar's instability worried him. It was too late in the campaign to switch sides, but if he and Gaeta could keep Baltar on track until the election, Zarek could take hold of the reins of power after - if necessary, of course.

The next day, Baltar was doing his best to pretend that the "incident" at the hospital had never happened. He nodded when Gaeta handed him the latest poll results, and appeared to be listening when Zarek talked about how best to exploit Laura Roslin's weaknesses.

"Yes, her appeal is strong to the voters of Sagittaron, Geminon, and Airelon. Her message that she is being guided by the Gods finds strong support. Even there, her support is not universal though. She's identified very closely with Caprica and with the military elite. She had no strong religious background before she identified herself as The Leader, and some people are sceptical of her claims. They wonder if it is a Caprican trick to exploit their sincerely-held religious beliefs."

"I'm Caprican too," said Baltar unnecessarily.

"Yes, but you're not so closely identified with the military. Present yourself as a president who represents their interests, and will stand up for the civilian fleet. "

"The civilians depend on the military for their lives. They'll hardly take to someone who tarnishes their heroes. They need to believe in kindly Uncle Adama watching out for them, just as they need to believe that the Gods are looking out for us, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding."

"This is not your university debating society, Gaius," Zarek said sternly. "If you want to win the election, you'll listen to me and absorb what I'm saying."

Gaius nodded unenthusiastically. He was losing the election, and he knew it, but sometimes it was difficult to care. The Six who lived in his mind leaned over him seductively. She was wearing the low-cut red dress he especially liked on her, but he found it surprisingly easy to ignore her. She whispered into his ear.

"This is your future, Gaius. Don't you have any pride?" Six asked. "If the public humiliation of losing to a kindergarten teacher doesn't bother you, think of what Laura Roslin will do to you if she wins. Do you think she's going to forgive you for announcing your candidacy at her press conference? You betrayed her publicly. How long before she has you in a prison cell? Or out an airlock?"

Gaeta leaned forward. Baltar's imaginary Six turned to look at him.

"I have some good news. There's an empty seat on a raptor going to the Callisto today. The Callisto's a basic transport vessel with very few amenities. They sent a petition to the Quorum proposing that civilians should be rotated among the ships, so that no one is stuck on the worst ships indefinitely. Roslin dismissed it out of hand. She says that transporting civilians from ship-to-ship would be a waste of resources. We could definitely pick up some support there if we send a rep."

"Will Adama agree to it?"

"He won't have a choice. The president is sending Tory Foster to talk to them. Adama's a fair man."

"Great," said Zarek. "I'll go talk to their leader."

"No," Baltar said. "I'll go. I've visited dozens of these vessels in my capacity as vice-president. I may even have been on the Callisto before. All the names of the ships bleed together after a while. I'll go and you can talk about poll results and political stratagems while I'm gone."

"Fine," said Gaeta. "The raptor leaves in about forty-five minutes."

"A raptor. Do you know who's flying it? Is the pilot any good?"

"All the pilots are fully qualified," said Gaeta.

"Well, I know they're all qualified, Lt. Gaeta; I'm not disputing their skill level at all. I have the utmost respect for the pilots and for the flight crew, of course. What I mean is some pilots fly more smoothly than others. Some of them like showing off a bit – swooping up and down and suchlike. I'm not all that keen on swooping, actually. Maybe I should take another of Dr. Cottle's pills. One extra shouldn't do any harm. They're very mild."

Baltar showed up on the flight deck a few minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. The pilot was a tall, blonde woman with a reassuring air of confidence. She was at least six feet tall and generously proportioned. Baltar smiled appreciatively. Then he saw her insignia. The pilot was from the Pegasus. She had probably participated in the looting of civilian ships, shooting unco-operative civilians and leaving the rest for the Cylons. She had tortured Gina.

The pilot walked over to Baltar and introduced herself. "Dr. Baltar, I'm Lt. Costas, though people usually use my call sign, Hippolyta."

Hippolyta put out her hand for him to shake, but Baltar mimed a coughing fit so he wouldn't have to take it.

"I'm really pleased to have you aboard. Some of the people on board the Pegasus don't understand why we're holding an election in the middle of a war. They think it's a distraction and a waste of time. I'm different. I can kind of see the point.

The Pegasus isn't being treated fairly. There's a lot of prejudice against us. People from the Pegasus are doing on the grunt work, while people from Galactica get promotions. They've got me flying a raptor. I should be a viper pilot."

If Baltar were in charge of making assignments, every single officer and crewman of the Pegasus, would be working in the waste recycling facility. Permanently.

"These are military matters," Baltar said, "which do not fall under the president's purview. I suggest you bring up your concerns with your superior officer."

"My superior officer is from the Galactica!"

"Nonetheless, it is a military matter, and one in which I, as president, would be hesitant to interfere. I suspect that Laura Roslin would agree with me in that assessment."

The pilot appeared ready to discuss her grievance further, but Baltar had spotted Tory Foster walking toward the raptor.

"However, if you want to make sure that Laura Roslin is aware of your concerns, I suggest that you speak to her most valued assistant, Tory Foster. It's barely possible, I suppose, that the current president does not share my belief that the civilian government should be at arm's length from the military."

Hippolyta had already turned her back to him, in her eagerness to find another listener for her story. Quickly, Baltar climbed aboard the raptor and buckled himself in. Tory Foster followed a minute later. She did not look pleased, and gave Baltar a dirty look. He gave her in return his most charming smile.

The raptor took off. The flight was every bit as rough as Baltar feared. He tried to peer through the window in front of the pilot, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cloud 9, where Gina had taken refuge. No luck.

"So what do you know about the Callisto?" Baltar asked the young woman sitting next to him. He didn't have a chance to read Zarek's notes on the ship before he left, and knew that if he tried to read in flight, he'd be sick.

"I've been there once before," she said. "I used to be a paramedic on Aerelon, so I've got permission to go from ship to ship and do some basic first aid, and check on medical supplies. The Callisto's nothing much to look at, but it's very hospitable. It's always great to be among people from home."

"The Callisto is from Aerelon?"

"Yeah, her home port was Aurora City. Have you ever been there?"

"I've been to Aerelon, but not to Aurora City," said Baltar. "I went to a conference on Aerelon once."

"I'm surprised that a conference on Aerelon would hold any interest for you. Aren't you an expert on computers, and that sort of thing? We're very anti-tech on Aerelon. I guess we were proven right."

"I have all sorts of interests," said Baltar, "not just computers."

Baltar tried on his patented seductive smile, and brushed her hand with his. His efforts were half-hearted at best, and the young medic didn't even notice.

"There's the Callisto," she said.

The ship was at least fifty years old, and had not been particularly well maintained. Its hull was scarred and dented. The pilot banked sharply in preparation for landing on the Callisto's tiny flight deck. Baltar shut his eyes and gripped the arm rest.

"Are you all right?" the medic asked, with professional interest.

"I'm a bit of a nervous flier," Baltar admitted.

Tory snorted in contempt. Baltar opened his eyes to glare at her, but the ship dropped down, and he yelped involuntarily. He shut his eyes again. With all of creation in which to manoeuvre, Hippolyta could have made the trip much easier on her passengers. However, she wanted to show off her ability to make tight turns and land on a dime – to demonstrate that she had the skills to be a viper pilot. When Baltar opened his eyes again, they had landed. Several of the other passengers looked just as queasy as Baltar felt, but Tory was perfectly composed.

Hippolyta climbed out of the pilot's seat and beamed at her passengers, as if expecting congratulations on her stunt flying. Another member of the crew opened the door. Baltar, Tory and the other passengers were still fumbling with their belts. Hippolyta jumped down on to the tarmac and offered her hand to the disembarking passengers. Baltar refused her help and almost fell.

"I expect those of you who will be returning to the Galactica to be waiting here four hours from now," Hippolyta said. "If you're a minute late, you're left behind."

Tory Foster seemed to know where she was going, so Baltar followed her. The air quality in the Callisto would not have met pre-Cylon invasion standards. Presumably, repair to the ship's atmosphere recycling unit was on a repair list somewhere, but fixing a civilian ship reaching the end of its lifespan had a lower priority than keeping vipers in the air. Tory strode past the people congregating in the ship's hallways, heading for the ship's bridge. Baltar, less focused, scanned the weary faces around him and plodded after her. Knowing that the ship was from Aerelon unnerved him. It was exceedingly unlikely that anyone would recognize him from his childhood on that planet. He had already looked through the lists of survivors from Aerelon and had recognized none of the names. He reassured himself that Aurora City was on the other side of the globe from Cuttle's Breath Wash, where he had grown up, and that he had never actually been to Aurora City. Aurora City was the largest metropolis in Aerelon situated on the planet's most populous continent, while Cuttle's Breath Wash was considered a remote backwater even on Aerelon.

Tory took a sharp corner, and Baltar, afraid that he would lose her, quickened his pace. He didn't see the woman who put her hand out to touch his arm. He didn't know who whispered what used to be his name.

"Avel?"

Baltar stopped dead. Six was suddenly beside him; as she usually was when he felt threatened. It was no use pretending that he had not recognized that name. It was too late.

"Avel, it's you isn't it?" said a dark-haired woman. She was probably about Baltar's age, but a poor diet and the unhealthy atmosphere made her sallow and gaunt. "Do you remember me? Meroe? Meroe Lucas?"

"This isn't good. She knows who you are," said Six, stating the bloody obvious. "Who is she, Gaius?"

Baltar had no idea.

"You better catch up with your friend. Meet me here at three o'clock and we'll talk. "

"Where is here?" Baltar asked, since all the corridors of the ship looked the same.

"You have no sense of direction, Avel. You never did. Okay, I'll meet you on the bridge after you and Roslin's aide speak to the captain and his committee." She smiled. "You'd better hurry up and catch up with her. You'll never find your way there by yourself."

Baltar hurried off, Six matching his pace.

"She called you by your real name."

"Gaius is my real name," Baltar insisted. "Avel is just the name my parents gave me."

"It's a good name," Six teased. "Very rustic."

Baltar couldn't spot Tory. The poor air and his own nervousness were making him hyperventilate. He came up to the next corner and looked around desperately. There she was! Tory was waiting for him at the end of the corridor, looking impatiently at her watch.

"I should have left you behind," she said. "I would have, except you're so obviously unprepared for this meeting. I'm going to enjoy watching you make a fool of yourself."

"Terribly, terribly sorry to have kept you waiting," said Gaius. "I had to use the facilities. That raptor trip was a little too much for my stomach."

The meeting went fairly well from Baltar's point of view. Tory restated Roslin's position that any sort of rotation system among the civilian population wasn't practical since it diverted resources from the war against the Cylons. Baltar pointed out that since the resurrection ship had been destroyed, Cylon action against humanity had stopped. He suggested that humanity take advantage of this period of peace, which he hoped might be permanent, to look to their own wellbeing. As for tyllium supplies, he knew that since the successful raid on the Cylons' tyllium source, a raid in which he had a minor but significant role, the fleet had enough for several years. Although Admiral Adama had never said exactly how long it would take to reach Earth, a secret he kept for security reasons, he had never suggested that the journey would take anywhere near that long.

Tory was angry. She and Baltar both knew that Adama had no idea where Earth was, how long it would take to get there, or even whether Earth really existed or was only a myth. She could not expose Baltar's false promises without destroying the audience's confidence in Adama and Roslin. Worse yet, she would have to relate Baltar's success to her boss, whose hatred of Baltar had become almost pathological.

After their presentations, the captain invited Tory and Baltar to join him and his officers for lunch. The lunch was protein-meal pancakes served with a glass of water that smelled of bleach. Baltar said that still felt a trifle unwell from the raptor ride, and would skip the food, although he would be happy to take part in their mealtime conversation.

Halfway through the meal, Six tapped him on the shoulder. Meroe was standing in a doorway down the corridor from the meeting room. She beckoned to him. Baltar quickly excused himself and headed towards her.

"What are you going to do if she's a blackmailer?" Six asked.

"I don't know. Pay her off." Baltar whispered.

"With what?"

"I could take her back to the Galactica where she'll have clean air and decent food. She'd be grateful after living here."

"For how long would she be grateful, Gaius? Blackmailers don't stop when you pay them off. They want more and more and more."

"Well, what do you suggest I do instead?"

"There's always the nearest airlock. If you're afraid of getting your hands dirty, Zarek has friends who could get rid of her for you."

"I won't do that. If she won't be paid off, then I'll make an announcement myself. I'll tell everyone I'm from Aerelon not Caprica. Who would care? Aerelon and Caprica are both gone now."

Six put her hand under Gaius's chin and forced him to face her.

"Do you really want everyone to know who you really are? Do you want them wondering how much of what you say is true and how much is false? Do you think that you can stand that sort of scrutiny?" Six touched a finger to his lips to stop him from answering. "Gaius, I always have your best interests in my mind and in my heart. This could be a disaster for you. One crack in your facade and you'll crumble."

Six grabbed his tie and pulled him closer to her. "Promise me you'll do whatever you have to to protect yourself." Gaius couldn't breathe.

Meroe walked up to Gaius and Six was gone. Gaius was clutching his own tie, which he pretended to adjust.

"I didn't think you remembered me," she said smiling. "That would be a bit crushing, because you were my first. We were together in the tall grass near Kettle Creek. You told me I had lovely eyes and an excellent speaking voice. I'll always remember that – an excellent speaking voice. You were the only person I knew who would ever notice something like that."

Gaius was beginning to remember her now. She was one of many and their faces and bodies blurred together in his memory. He had been in a sort of contest with the son of the headman of his village. Leon had pitted his family status and impressive physique against Avel's charm and intelligence to see who could win the attentions of the most young women. The competition had been fairly friendly until Leon had seen his sister's name on Avel's list of conquests. He'd been lucky to escape with a black eye and a loose tooth.

Meroe led him to her quarters. She had one bunk, little better than a shelf, in a tiny room. There were three other bunks, but no one else was in. She sat down and Gaius sat on the bunk opposite her.

"Of course, I remember you," Gaius said. "You haven't changed that much."

"You've changed a lot," Meroe said. "I don't mean that you've aged badly or anything like that. It's just that your family was so traditional, you and your father in your beards and moustaches and your mother always wearing the red kerchief. I've seen pictures of you before, but I never realized that you were Avel from the village! Even your voice is totally different."

"After I left the village and gave up the traditional life, I thought I had to change my name. My parents didn't approve of me leaving the farm. They thought I was bringing disgrace to the family name by abandoning my heritage. I changed my name to spare them that disgrace."

"I'm sure they would have been proud of you, if they had known," Meroe said. "Look what you've done with your life. They could never have imagined it – their son, little Avel, growing up to be vice-president of the Colonies – maybe even president."

Baltar left out some the circumstances of his departure which did not reflect well on him, such as the money he stole from his father that went to pay for his ticket to Caprica or the pregnant girlfriend who had used her savings to pay for his forged identity papers, but his story was true enough in outline. He'd paid his father and the girl back eventually. No one else alive knew the real details anyway.

"I'm so glad to see again, Meroe. It's a miracle that two people could have survived from that same village in the middle of the nowhere."

"It's a miracle that I got on this transport in the first place," Meroe said. "I'm a teacher up Fullerton way, and my class pooled their money and bought me a ticket to Picon. My grandmother was from Picon and I've always wanted to go there. I'd just won a sort of prize for being best teacher of the year, and my students were so proud of me. I'd never been on a transport ship before in my life. My very first flight was the day the Cylons attacked."

"That's an amazing story," said Baltar, nodding his head vigourously. "I could really use someone with your teaching ability and, of course, your lovely speaking voice in my campaign. Would you consider helping me?"

"Me?" said Meroe. "I've never been involved in politics in my life."

"I had never been involved in politics either until a few months ago. For good or ill, the Cylon attack has forced us all to enter into spheres of activity where we might not feel entirely comfortable. We've all had to make use of skills and resources we never knew that we had. I'm sure that you can rise to the occasion, Meroe, and I would so appreciate having someone from home to talk to."

"I don't know," Meroe said. "There's talk about organizing some sort of school on the Callisto."

"You wouldn't be on the Callisto," Baltar said. "The position I have in mind for you is on the Cloud 9, assisting a colleague of mine named Gina. She's interesting in all sorts of good causes – peace especially. I'm sure she'd be interested in your plans to open a school, and she knows how to raise funds and get things happening."

"Cloud 9, did you say?"

"Yes, I realize it will be a big adjustment. You're used to living in a simple farming community with plain-spoken honest people. Cloud 9 is full of the kind of luxury and decadence that Speaker Headley used to talk about when he was handling the snakes. I wouldn't ask you to do it, but I know that you were always strong in your beliefs. I know it wouldn't corrupt you."

"Well, I'm always interested in new opportunities."

"Good, that's settled. The only thing is that most people don't know my birth name and where I came from. As I said, I want to spare my family the disgrace of having a son living a non-traditional life. Their spirits would never find peace in the afterlife."

"Are you a believer now?" Meroe asked. "When I knew you, you were a shameless atheist!"

"I think that these hard times have made all of us look for answers. I'm not as certain about my belief – or rather my lack of belief – as I used to be. Anyway, I'm going to ask you not to reveal my past to anyone. If you can't promise that, I won't be able to offer you the position. I told Gina I'd find someone for her whom she and I could both trust absolutely. I couldn't do that, if I knew that you couldn't keep a secret, even a harmless one like my Aerelon heritage."

Meroe was not taken in by Baltar's words. She knew that she was being offered a deal – be quiet about his past and get a cushy position on the Cloud 9. Still, it was nice of her former lover to phrase the whole thing so that it didn't sound so stark and mercenary. She appreciated that. It made it easier for her to accept.

"Another thing," Baltar said. "There was this girl I knew in Cuttle's Breath Wash. Her name was Victoria and she had long red-gold hair, almost to her waist. When I left, she was expecting. Do you know if she had a boy or a girl?"

"Victoria D'Andrea? I remember her. She had a little girl. Her name was Flora. She had your eyes."

"I don't suppose you know what happened to her."

"Her name's not on the list," Meroe said. "I've checked every name for someone I might know. I even thought of checking the names of people from Picon, to see if I could find any distant relatives of my Pican grandmother. Everybody's dead."

Meroe began to cry. Baltar wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't trivialize her pain; nothing he could do to make her forget what she had lost. It seemed more respectful to sit in silence. They sat opposite each other, each experiencing a private grief. Meroe mourned a classroom full of smiling, happy children. Baltar mourned a tiny baby girl, hooked up to life support. Flora D'Andrea, who had shared his blood, had never been as dear to him or as real to him as Hera.

"You'd better show me the way to the flight deck," Baltar said, when she had regained her composure. "I'll never find it on my own. I'll get you on a flight to Cloud 9 as soon as possible."

Zarek would be able to arrange it. There'd be a price to pay for his arrangements; there always was – the promise of a government contract for one of Zarek's friends most likely.

Meroe left as soon as she took him to the flight deck. Neither Tory nor the flight crew had shown up yet. He wondered whether they were scouring the ship for him, after his abrupt departure from the captain's lunch. Six and he were alone.

"She's still a danger to you."

"Your flesh and blood counterpart will keep an eye on her," Baltar said.

"I don't trust 'Gina'," Six said, spitting out the name as if it were a swear word. "She's broken."

"Maybe she can be fixed...healed. Maybe Meroe will help her. If I remember her correctly, she used to be very gentle. She had the sweetest laugh; nobody could resist her when she laughed."

"Don't you know it's rude to talk about old girlfriends with your current lover?"

"You're not my lover anymore."

This was true. Since Gina had come into his life, he had not made love to the woman in his head. He had not made love to Gina either, so the situation was not entirely satisfactory from Baltar's point of view.

"If you're not going to have sex with me," Six said. "You should at least give me someone else. Tom Zarek, maybe? He's the real power behind your campaign. Imagine me and Zarek in the bed of your fabulous lakeside house on Caprica. He comes in the door of the bedroom, and he's wearing – what should he be wearing, Gaius?"

Gaius had turned around to face Tory and the captain, both of whom looked rather annoyed.

"I'm so sorry if I upset you, leaving your lovely luncheon so abruptly. I think I must have picked up some sort of stomach bug. I hope the trip home won't be too much for me. Maybe I should mention my indisposition to the pilot. I'll ask her to fly as smoothly as possible, shall I, just to prevent any unfortunate ... spills?"

He took another one of Dr. Cottle's pills to settle his nerves before the flight.

When Baltar woke up, the raptor had landed and Gaeta was standing over him Baltar was confused and groggy. Gaeta had to help him undo the buckles, which suddenly seemed to be very complicated.

"I think I have been overdoing these," Baltar said, shaking the bottle he had received from Dr. Cottle. "They're not as mild as I thought they were. They're wonderful though. For the first time in weeks, I can't feel that horrible high-pitched plucking on my nerves – like static over the wireless, or fingernails down a chalkboard. I could definitely get to like Dr. Cottle's little pills."

"How did the trip go, Dr. Baltar?"

"I think it went pretty well. So many people are in pain, Lt. Gaeta. Everyone is hurting. There doesn't seem to be a way out. I'm not making sense. It's the pills. I'm sorry. Terribly, terribly sorry. "

 

 


End file.
